


We'll Meet Again

by Phylwannabe



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire; Game of Thrones
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Jon Snow/Sansa Stark;, VE Day in London; Churchill likes Sansa; family feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24798361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phylwannabe/pseuds/Phylwannabe
Summary: Sansa works at 10 Downing Street and is in the service. She receives big news in the early morning hours of May 8, 1945.  Despite the nation's joy, and during the V-E Day celebration that ensues, Sansa grieves her fiance, RAF pilot,  Jon Snow, who is MIA. Largely from Sansa's perspective, but Jon does make an appearance.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 10
Kudos: 70





	We'll Meet Again

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the news today of the death of Vera Lynn, WWII songstress, at the age of 103. The title, We'll Meet Again, was the title of her most famous song and an anthem, to this day, for the Brits.  
> Because as an American, I am an unabashed Anglophile and am in awe of their indomitable will during the dark days of the war, this is my tribute to them and to Dame Vera Lynn, all with a Jonsa vibe.  
> Disclaimer: For those of you who may wonder, I took liberties in allowing the main characters to wander all over London on V-E Day. Also, any historical inaccuracies are mine, although they may be intentional to advance the plot.

_May 8, 1945, 2:50 a.m. B.S.T_.

First Officer Sansa Stark jolted to full attention as the telegraph in front of her suddenly began clacking. She quickly picked up a pad and began jotting down the codes. When the machine ceased transmission, she translated the marks and when finished, looked down in open-mouthed astonishment at the message before her.

**TOP PRIORITY MESSAGE FOR THE P.M. _stop,_ Effective 2:41 a.m. 05/08/1945**

**German High Command surrendered to AEF and Soviet High Command _stop_ , REPEAT,**

**Germany has surrendered unconditionally! _stop_ Supreme Commander D. D. Eisenhower.**

Sansa double checked her notes. Could this possibly be true? After almost six years of hardship and war, was England finally to be at peace? Had Britain survived the unspeakable hardships of the war – the bombings, the rations, the separations, the heartache, and come out of it all, bruised but unbroken? Mentally shaking herself, her training took over as she verified the coded transmission once again, and then retyped the message for delivery to its intended recipient.

Sansa stood, straightening the skirt and jacket of her uniform. Message in hand, she moved quickly through the deserted and dimly lit corridors until she reached the office of Director Maege Mormont. She knocked on the door and upon hearing a gruff " _Enter",_ proceeded inside and promptly saluted.

Mormont looked up from where she was reviewing a stack of requisitions. Setting aside her ever-present cigarette into the overflowing ashtray on her desk, she held out her hand. Sansa handed the missive to her superior and watched, unsurprised, as the senior officer’s mouth dropped. She looked up at the younger woman. "Did you verify this?"

Sansa nodded. "Yes, mum. Verified and then rechecked the codes just to be sure." Mormont nodded and then briefly glanced at a picture sitting on her desk. Sansa knew that the Captain’s husband had been killed during the early days of the Blitz, and that Mormont’s two sons were fighting in Africa. Her commander was clearly elated at the news but Mormont was too much a _by the book_ officer to let her emotions get the best of her.

Captain Mormont nodded and briskly stubbed out her smoke even as she reached for the phone. "Get the P.M.’s valet and tell him to wake Churchill. Important news coming up to 10 Downing immediately." She listened and then responded. "We’ll be there in ten."

Mormont ended the call and then looked up at Sansa. "Ever met the Prime Minister, Stark?"

"No mum, just seen him from a distance." Mormont rose with the missive in hand and motioned Sansa to follow. "I think it’s high time you did. I expect the Old Man will want to

personally shake the hand of the girl who just coded the best news he’s had in this whole bloody war."

**********************************

_May 8, 1945, 3:30 a.m. B.S.T._

Given the late hour Sansa felt she could be forgiven if she pinched herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. She was standing before the Hero of England himself, Sir Winston Churchill, Prime Minister, and dogged leader of wartime Britain. When she and Mormont had entered his office, Churchill was already sitting behind his desk, impatiently awaiting their arrival. The Old Man, as he was known to his fellow countrymen, was dressed, hastily it appeared, in a bathrobe, his sparse hair standing on end, and the ever present stogie in his mouth. After saluting, Sansa stepped back and quietly surveyed the room and its famous occupant as he read the message from Eisenhower. Both she and Mormont stood at attention while Churchill read, then reread, the telegram. "Bloody Hell," he muttered around his unlit cigar, "Bloody Hell, we did it."

He cleared his throat and proceeded to fish for a lighter, only to have his valet produce one. As he lit up, the PM proclaimed. "Captain Mormont, best damn news your office has ever brought me." Mormont, standing arrow straight, nodded brusquely. "Yes, sir, I should think so, sir."

Churchill leveled his shrewd gaze at Sansa. "And who is this rare English rose?"

Sansa cleared her throat, "First Officer, Sansa Stark, Sir."

Mormont showed true affection as she glanced over at Sansa. "Stark here was on duty when the message came in. She decoded and brought it to me. I took the liberty of bringing her with me, Sir."

Churchill smacked the desk top. "Glad you did, Mormont. Bloody glad you did." He returned his attention to the tall red head, noting as he did that she was not wearing a wedding ring. "You will be a part of history you know, _Miss_ Stark."

Despite herself, Sansa blushed and shook her head. "I doubt that, Sir."

"Nonsense," Churchill responded. "You’ll have a place in my wartime memoirs if nothing else. I guarantee that." "Come," he barked as a knock on the door sounded out.

Churchill’s secretary entered with a steno pad and the PM began barking orders. "Get Buckingham Palace on the line. The King should be notified immediately. Tell the King’s secretary I will pay him a visit at his convenience but the earlier the better. Then roust up the party leaders. I’ll address the Lords and Commons jointly at noon. Contact the BBC. We’ll address the nation from right here at 3:00 in the afternoon. Type up a proclamation. Today is a national day of celebration. When you get all that done, wake Alice – she’ll know her role without being instructed."

As the harried secretary rushed out, The Old Man turned back to the two WACs. "Miss Stark, I give you the task of sending a telegraph to the Supreme Commander and one to Field Marshall Montgomery. I’ll have them to you within the hour. Then I suggest you go home and get ready to celebrate."

Sansa automatically replied, "It will be my honor to send the telegrams, Sir, but I doubt I’ll be doing much celebrating right now."

The stogie waved in her direction, "Oh, and why not, may I ask?"

Sansa sent a panicked look in the direction of her superior. She shouldn’t have spoken to the Prime Minister in that manner! Best to keep her own sorrows to herself - the Old Man certainly had his own share of burdens without her laying her grief before him.

Director Mormont intervened, "What First Officer Stark means Sir, is that her fiance has been missing in action the past two months. RAF Wing Commander Jon Snow."

Churchill’s entire demeanor changed. He gruffly dismissed his valet and motioned for Sansa to sit. "Tell me about your pilot, young lady," he said softly.

Sansa sat and looked down at her hands which were clenched tightly in her lap. While she deeply appreciated the Prime Minister’s concern, like all Brits, she valued a stiff upper lip. It was how she had gotten through the War so far. Could she speak about Jon without crying or falling apart? She would be mortified to lose it in front of Sir Winston Churchill!

Maege shrugged touched her shoulder, "He will want the truth. Best out with it."

Sansa spoke softly, "I have known Jon all my life. He’s actually a distant cousin. We grew up together in Winterfell, my family home."

Churchill spoke around the cigar in his mouth. "Lord Ned Stark’s your father? Damn fine General! Wish we had more men like him in the Army."

"Thank you, Sir. My father speaks highly of you too. Jon joined the RAF as soon as he was old enough. Him and Robb both. Robb’s my,...." Sansa blinked, willing the tears back, "Robb _was_ my brother. He was killed when his plane went down during a reconnaissance mission right before the Normandy invasion."

"My condolences," Churchill murmured. He nodded for her to continue.

Sansa unclenched her hands, wiped them down the sides of her skirt, and then placed them, palms down, on the desk. "My whole family has been gung-ho in the war effort. Good Brits all. My mum took in 20 children, some of them just babies, evacuated from London during the Blitz. My sister, Arya, is a WAC too, she’s in France working as a medic and ambulance driver. My brothers, Bran and Rickon are too young to fight,

but they volunteer in the Civil Defense and collect tin and rubber for the war effort all around the North."

Churchill extended his arm across the desk and covered Sansa’s hands with his own. "It’s good folks like you Starks that have kept England in this fight. You can be proud of your family, and they should be very proud of you.... But get back to telling me about your beau."

Sansa took a deep breath. This was the hardest part. "Two months ago, Jon’s squadron, The Fighting Direwolves, took off from a controlled air field in France for a bombing mission over Germany. Evidently they successfully dropped their bombs and were on their way back when the squadron ran into an isolated patch of anti-aircraft fire just before they got back into Allied territory. Jon’s flight group – three planes – took the brunt of the attack. Two of the planes sustained direct hits and crashed. There were no survivors. Jon’s plane was found, wrecked in a field, but there has been no word from him or his crew since," Sansa choked, "It was his 50th mission since D Day.”

Churchill coughed and looked over Sansa’s lowered head to Mormont. "Keep your chin up, Officer Stark. Your young man is probably holed up in some French village, getting fat on baquettes and enjoying the local wine."

Sansa nodded and whispered, "I suspect you’re right Sir. Can I be excused now? I have some important messages to send."

"Of course." Sansa stood, saluted, and then quietly exited the office. Churchill looked at Mormont. "Maege, my girl, we are going to find this Jon Snow. By all that’s holy, we _will_ find him for that girl. I want her to have something to celebrate tonight. The full force of this office will be behind you, Director. I’ll put a call in to Montgomery himself and if that boy is anywhere inside Allied command, he _will_ get a VIP ride back to London."

Mormont stood and fiercely saluted the Old Man. "Yes, Sir!"

*****************************************

_May 8, 1945, 5:30 a.m. B.S.T._

Sansa quietly entered the small basement flat she shared with Gilly. By the dim light coming from the cellar window, she could just make out her bed. Sansa wanted nothing more than to sink down and take a long nap. But in good conscience she couldn’t keep the momentous news to herself. If Gilly had been on duty that night and had taken the victory message from Allied Command, Sansa knew she would be shaking her awake right now.

"Gills," she spoke softly. A bit louder, "Gills!" She reached out and gently shook her sleeping roommate. "Ugggh," the blanket moaned. "Wake up, Gilly. I have big news."

The covers flew back and Gilly sat up. "News about Jon?!"

Sansa shook her head as she nudged Gilly over so she could sit next to her on the narrow cot. "Gods, I wish, but no. Not yet. But I do have BIG news."

Gilly’s brown eyes were round. "Tell me, Sansa," she demanded.

Sansa’s eyes softened and she grabbed Gilly’s arm. "The war in Europe is over, Gilly. The Germans have surrendered."

Gilly sat straight up at that. "Unconditionally?" Sansa nodded and she and Gilly fell into each other’s arms weeping and laughing at the same time for a long moment. Then Gilly pulled back, "I wonder if Sam knows?"

Sam was Gilly’s boyfriend and he worked as a code breaker for British Intelligence. He was also one of Jon’s best friends and Sansa had leaned on both Sam and Gilly while waiting for news about Jon. For her part, Sansa was keeping the big secret that Sam and Gilly planned on getting married as soon as they possibly could; after all, they had to make it legal before a new little Tarly entered the world in six months or so. Sansa had been covering some of Gilly’s shifts at 10 Downing while Gills battled morning sickness. Yes, Sansa and Gilly Craster, soon-to-be Tarly, were best of friends.

Sansa rose and moved to her side of the small room, undressing as she went. "Give him a ring in a bit." As she lifted the blanket to slide into her cot, she added with a yawn, "And tell him that the Old Man is declaring a national holiday today. No work. You and Sam can take in all the celebrations around town."

After Sansa’s news, Gilly was done with sleep and was already rifling through her sparse closet for a suitable frock in which to celebrate. "And what will you be doing, Sansa Stark, during this fine day of national rejoicing?"

A muffled, "Sleeping," came from under the covers. Gilly harrumphed, _Not if I have anything to say about it. Get your 40 winks, sweet friend, and then be prepared to celebrate. What kind of bestie would I be if I left you here all by yourself to grieve while the rest of England is having a party?_

********************************

_May 8, 1945, 11:00 a.m. B. S. T._

Sansa had managed 4 hours of sleep before Gilly drug her out of bed, covers and all. Protesting that she just wasn’t in the mood hadn’t gotten Sansa very far. Gilly was already dressed in a pretty yellow spring frock that enhanced her brown eyes and hair and was flared just enough to hide her small but definitely growing belly. She had opted for low slingbacks, telling Sansa that she wasn’t going to miss a second of this momentous occasion just because her feet were hurting. 

Realizing that Gills would not take _"no"_ for an answer, Sansa drug herself out of bed, trod down the hall for a quick shower in the communal bath, and then returned to survey her closet. Sansa had always been a bit of a clothes horse before the war, but her stint in the service meant that most of the time she was in uniform and her wardrobe had certainly suffered over the last 4 years. As she hesitated, Gilly pushed past her and pulled out a blue and white checked halter dress with flowing skirt. In her hands she dangled a pair of navy open toed heels and a white cardigan. Sansa shook her head wordlessly. It was _too_ much — a painful reminder of her time with Jon. She had first worn the dress, brand new at the time, just before the Blitz. Jon had managed to get a two day pass and had traveled from Dover to London. He had taken her out to dinner and then they had danced most of the night away with other couples in Berkeley Square. Vera Lynn had been singing that evening and no one was immune to her romantic songs. At the end of the evening when Jon offered to escort her back to her flat, Sansa had refused and pulled him into a quaint little hotel. They spent the rest of Jon’s short leave making love in a small room tucked under the eaves. While Sansa had worn the dress often after that evening, she had not worn it or even looked at it since Jon disappeared.

Gilly hugged Sansa, her brown eyes warm with sympathy. "I know, I _know_. But if you wear it, it might bring Jon good luck. Wherever he is, whatever he is doing, maybe he will sense that his girl is wearing his favorite frock and is looking pretty just for him."

Sansa blinked hard, but lost the battle as her tears overflowed and trickled down her cheeks. In a broken voice, she confessed, "I miss him _so_ much, Gills. I know I’m not the only girl that has lost her lover but I don’t know how I can go on if he doesn’t come back to me."

Gilly smiled through her own tears. "He will come back, Sans. I just _know_ it. Jon wouldn’t leave you alone to get through all this post-war craziness by yourself. And as close as you and he are, don’t you think you would know if he was truly gone."

Sansa gripped her best friends hands and nodded, unable to speak for a long moment. Finally, she managed a whisper. "Let’s go celebrate. First stop, the Mayfair for breakfast!"

*******************************

_May 8, 1945, 3:00 p.m. B.S.T._

Sansa, Gilly and Sam stood outside Whitehall where an enormous crowd had gathered to hear Churchill’s remarks. A loudspeaker system had been hastily erected but Sansa doubted that the far fringes of the gathering would actually be able to hear anything. It wouldn’t matter one whit though because as soon as the Prime Minister made the official announcement that hostilities had ended, Sansa knew the crowd would erupt with all the pent-up joy that 5 long years of war had stored in them. Due to their position in the telegraph room at 10 Downing, Sansa and Gilly had been able to score a great position to see history in the making. As they stood, waiting, Sansa heard Sam whisper to Gilly, "We can tell our little one we were here on V-E Day, Gills." Sansa’s heart clenched. She was so happy for her friends, she was, but every moment of their happiness only caused to remind her of what she missed. Sansa had wanted a baby so badly, to the point of begging the last time they were together right before the D Day invasion, but Jon had refused. "I can’t leave you alone and with a baby to care for, Sans," he has whispered as he held her in his arms. "If I don’t come back..." Sansa had interrupted him with a fierce kiss, but Jon would not be swayed, " _If_ I don’t come back, I want you to move on with someone else, and you can’t do that with a child. I love you too much to leave you with that burden." Sansa regretted that they had parted with the unspoken tension of their conflicting desires between them. If she could _only_ have Jon back, just for a moment, she would let him know that no matter what their disagreements, she would always love him without reservation.

Sansa came back from her reveries to the moment as Churchill began to speak, a solemn hush falling over the crowd. The crowd predictably erupted in joyous celebration at the announcement, but eventually fell quiet again as it became obvious the Old Man had more to say. Wafting over the crowd, Churchill’s voice intoned. "But let us not forget, even as we rejoice that the war in Europe is finally at an end, _while we may allow ourselves a brief period of rejoicing, let us not forget for a moment the toils and efforts that lie ahead."_ Sansa felt the emotion of the crowd in that moment. England was still standing, but the road ahead was certainly going to be long and hard.

After Churchill finished speaking to a thunderous ovation, the crowd made its way to Buckingham Palace. Here, Sam proved his worth, and managed to secure the three of them a good spot to watch as the royals appeared on the balcony. Sansa felt tears well up in her eyes as she watched King George VI and his family wave to the crowd. The King and Queen had chosen to stay in London during the Blitz when they easily could have taken their daughters to their country estate at Balmoral where it would have been much safer. Instead the royals had routinely visited the air raid shelters to comfort those who had lost their homes and possessions. Sansa wasn’t a staunch royalist by any means, but she nevertheless felt enormous pride in the royal family and the role they had played in the war effort. Someone in the crowd started singing _God Save The King_ and soon everyone, Sansa included, joined in.

*************************************

_May 8, 1945, 5:00 p.m. B.S.T._

London’s celebration was in full swing at this point. Sansa and her companions enjoyed the traffic jam in the Strand as crowds overflowed into the road to greet military vehicles traveling at a snail’s pace. Girls hung off the Jeeps as they kissed the bemused officers and enlisted men inside. American soldiers in the crowd were greeted with calls of "We Love You, Yank!" and were treated to extra special feminine attentions. Flowers were strewn everywhere and Sam managed to snag one which he promptly placed in Gilly’s hair. Champagne, wine and ale were free flowing as well. Noticing that Gilly appeared a bit wan, Sam found them a space inside a small tea shop and they all munched on "Victory Sandwiches" as the shopkeeper entertained them with a lively rendition of _Keep Your Ammunition Dry, Boys._

They all agreed that Trafalgar Square was a must during their day of celebration. By the time they arrived the great fountain had become a wading pool for servicemen and their girls alike. While Sam took off his socks and shoes and Gilly joined him for a turn in the pool, Sansa managed to find an empty phone booth and she placed a call to her Mum. Even though the background noise made it hard to hear, Sansa was able to hear the sheer joy and relief in Catelyn Stark’s voice. She had heard from Sansa’s father just that morning and he was well. Sansa was thrilled to learn that Ned Stark had been one of the generals in the room with Eisenhower during the surrender. What a story her Papa would have to tell when he got home! Catelyn had also received a telegram from Arya; she was fine – overworked, but fine. Catelyn shared a teary moment with her daughter, wishing that Robb could be here to see his little Benjen, born to Robb’s wife Margaery, after Robb had been killed. As the connection became thready, Catelyn heard her Mum tell her to "Keep her spirits up - Jon will surely be home soon." Sansa shouted over the crowd, "I love you Mum," but she had no idea if Catelyn had heard her as the line went dead at that moment.

*******************************

_May 8, 1945, 8:00 p.m. B.S.T._

There was a rumor that Vera Lynn would be singing at Prince Albert Hall that evening. The magnificent building had miraculously escaped the brunt of the bombing and emerged mostly undamaged. Sam again proved adept at getting them through the mayhem to the impressive venue. Sansa knew the rumors about Ms. Lynn were true because, once again, loudspeakers had been hung in the trees outside the Hall to accommodate the overflow crowd. While the three friends could have tried to push inside the hall, they decided to enjoy the concert from outside along with what literally seemed the entire population of London.

At 8:30, just as dusk had settled across the capitol, the dulcet tones of the _Forces Sweetheart_ wafted over the air. Since the bombings had stopped the lamplighters were operating again and Sansa was able to take in the lovely scene. The crowd began to join in the more familiar songs as Vera led them. _White Cliffs of Dover, I’ll Be Seeing You,_ and _Sweetheart_ were all met with high voices and jubilant cheers. Sansa noticed how couples were beginning to hold each other in the darkness. She glanced over to see Sam wrap his arms around Gilly and nuzzle her hair as they swayed to the music. Her heart clenched and she busied herself with the cardigan she had tied around her waist, attempting to shrug into it in order to give her friends some moments to themselves and herself time to get her emotions in check.

As she struggled with her sweater, a husky voice murmured into her ear. "Need help with that Miss?" Sansa froze. _That voice._ It came again, but this time it spoke her name, "Sansa," and nothing more. The crowd faded away, Vera’s voice dimmed, and Sansa felt as if she was looking down on her body from a great height. Did she dare to turn around? Could she _stand_ to be wrong, to be disappointed?

The decision was made for her as a big hand, calloused and scarred, grasped her arm and gently turned her around. Sansa suddenly found the ground infinitely fascinating, which was interesting because she really couldn’t see anything through the tears that were shimmering in her eyes. Despite her determination to keep focusing on the London turf, the _Hand_ had other ideas. Long fingers tucked under her chin and then moved up to stroke her cheek. As she kept her eyes stubbornly shut, she heard a deep masculine chuckle. "My sweet girl, open your eyes."

Sansa unclenched her eyes. Her vision blurred as she saw a familiar weathered bomber jacket, the collar pulled up just so. She saw a beloved face through the tears now streaming down her face and moved to gingerly touch the thin scar that ran down the left side of his forehead and then resumed just below his eye. Somehow the healing wound rendered him even more beautiful. Soft dark brown eyes looked deep into her blue ones, full of love and infinite wonder at the miracle of life. Sansa gasped as his full mouth descended on hers and she returned the kiss with everything in her.

For an infinite moment that Sansa would remember for the rest of her life, it was just her and Jon – her Jon -- back from the dead. She clung to him and sought his mouth over and over until, breathless, he laughingly pulled away. Sam and Gilly moved to hug him then and as the crowd began to notice the reunion, cheers went up all around. Sansa gasped as she suddenly noticed that his left arm was in a sling, but Jon assured her, even as she ran her hands over him to make sure, that he was _fine, fine, fine_.

Sansa pulled her dashing aviator back to her, his body flush with hers as they swayed to the music. "How did you get back? And how on earth did you find me in this crowd?"

"It’s a long story, sweetheart." Jon murmured into her hair. "Right now, I just want to hold you and be part of this great day. After that, I want to sleep for about three days."

Sansa pulled back, "Just sleep?" Jon laughed out loud and the joyful sound of it knit all of the pieces of Sansa’s heart back together. "All right, first other things, then sleep." When Vera’s voice rang out and a collective murmur swept through the crowd as her best known song began, Jon wrapped his good arm around Sansa, pulled her back to his chest, and nuzzled his face to her neck. With Sansa facing the hall, Jon turned to look behind him. There, far back from the crowd, a black Bentley sat, the motor idling. As Jon gazed, the rear window drew down and a hand with an unlit stogie emerged and gave the "V" sign. Jon nodded in grateful response and turned back to Sansa and his friends. They joined with Vera and the nation in singing at the top of their lungs:

_**We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when,** _

_**But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day.** _

_**Keep smiling through, just like you always do,** _

_**Till the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away.** _

**_So won't you please say hello, to the folks that we know,_ **

**_Tell them I won't be long,_ **

**_They'll be happy to know that as you saw me go,_ **

**_I was singing this song._ **

**_We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when,_ **

**_But I know we'll meet again, Some Sunny Day._ **


End file.
